


Lights

by The_Silent_Writer



Category: The Fifth Estate (2013), The World's End (2013)
Genre: After the lights turned back on, Bar, Drinking & Talking, Drunken Flirting, Flirting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 21:30:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1703234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Silent_Writer/pseuds/The_Silent_Writer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver is drinking at a bar and ends up talking with a pretty, white-haired man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lights

This wasn’t what Oliver did, go to clubs or bars. The varying coloured lights were too bright and sporadic. The God-awful music made his head want to implode on itself. These tight spaces filled with taut, gyrating bodies, sheen with perspiration and what looked like glitter wasn’t him. None of this was Oliver. Oliver preferred a quiet night at home reading a good book or watching an hour or two of telly. When his body felt tired, he would go to sleep on his not-that-soft bed in his not-that-great flat. Mundane felt right to him. Oliver liked the ordinary… because he wasn’t. He was a—well, a blank.

It had taken five very long years for the lights to come back on. The black-out had been beneficial for the Earth. It hadn’t fixed everything, to be completely honest, but it was a start. It had also slapped mankind in the right direction on how to protect their fragile marble; communities were built tighter so things were easily accessible, nearly everyone was vegetarian, if not vegan, new and innovative ways to use and consume energy were created. All in all, the world was heading in the right direction and the five years of Dark Ages was a distant memory. For Oliver, however, being who he was had its ups and downs. There were still a lot of fleshies who harbored ill will towards blanks, still blamed them for the lights going out. The thought of being blamed so harshly had Oliver on edge some days; because blanks were not constituted as human beings, there was no law against harming one. Most days he felt safe. The days when he stayed home, read, relaxed. The situation he was in now, crammed in a small room filled with a mixture of blanks and fleshies all of whom were intoxicated which would, more than likely, lead to some kerfuffle or another… Not so much.

Maybe it was his attire? He stuck out like a sore thumb with his usual pin-striped business suit on. He didn’t look right. He knew he was supposed to act like his other blank brethren, who stripped off their layers of clothing in a feign attempt to feel the heat cling to their manufactured skin. Pretend to be human. Poor Oliver knew he should try, but it made him so uncomfortable to expose himself to people he had never met. The mere thought of taking off his suit-jacket left him so flustered he would nearly fall out of his seat at the bar. He was here for the alcohol. That was it. He thanked his creator, on nights like these, that at least his body treated liquor like a human’s did. He enjoyed the feeling of being drunk. To be happy, giddy, have not a care in the world. Unfortunately, new laws made it clear that the only places to drink these intoxicating fluids were at licensed nightclubs or pubs. So if Oliver wanted a drink, he had to do so in public. At least he had nowhere to be tomorrow so getting plastered was definitely on the table.

Two pints of ale and one shot of something the bartender assured him was strong later and Oliver was finally feeling relaxed. He could feel his head swaying in time to the music, he was even starting to hum along, albeit off key. He felt nice like this; smiling and care free. He could forget the mockery and hurt and anger inside of himself and just be happy.

“Care to dance?” a voice asked from his left, lazily pulling Oliver out of his thoughts of nothing in particular.

Shaking his head he peered over to his questioner although he didn’t really look at him. “I don’t dance,” he giggled as he sloppily peeled his suit jacket from his person. He could feel the familiar and welcomed warmth in his stomach from the alcohol. He returned to nurse his third ale for the evening and had already forgotten about the man to his left until said man spun him around on the bar stool he was in.

“I’m sure it’s because you’ve never tried, mate.” The man smiled sweetly and Oliver couldn’t help but give a slight grin in return. He could see the faint hue of pink on the man’s sharp cheekbones from underneath locks of nearly pure white.

“I… suppose I haven’t, no.” He chuckled, leaning an elbow on the bar. Oliver gave the man beside him a once over, then a second glance… and then another. He had to admit, this man was very appealing to the eye. Strong jawline, dreamy sage-green eyes, and cheekbones that could cut diamond; what wasn’t to like? Not to mention the aura of confidence he exuded. That characteristic in particular had Oliver wanting to know more about this man.

The man smirked, appraising Oliver with just as much subtlety. That is to say, he was undressing the suit-clad man with his eyes. “What’s your name, beautiful?” he asked in a thick Australian accent that went straight to Oliver’s trousers.

“O-Ollie—I mean! Oliver. Oliver Chamberlain.” Dark-azure flushed his cheeks. A shivering hand went up to trace the birthmark on his left temple. He may have been a blank, may not have been the  _real_ Oliver Chamberlain, but he still had the memories of being teased and called ‘O-man’. And they hurt. “Beautiful,” he scoffed.

The man chuckled, his voice lowering. “Well, Ollie – I mean, Oliver. Oliver Chamberlain… My name’s Julian. And I do happen to think you’re beautiful. Especially that birthmark of yours.” To accentuate his point, his long fingers reached up to intertwine with Oliver’s. He traced the ‘6’with the pad of his index finger. Watching Oliver through half-lidded eyes, he smirked when the smaller man shivered at his light caresses. “Very… Very beautiful.”

Poor Oliver couldn’t help the blush on his cheeks from darkening. In his entire time of existence,  _his own_ existence, no one had ever given him such compliments. Such coddling left him feeling conflicted. His instincts told him to run, far away from the bar as fast as his drunken legs could take him, but an ever growing part of him wanted to stay and learn more about this odd, yet intriguing man.

His flippant state of mind must have made an appearance on his facial features because Julian’s expression changed from certainty to worry. With a jerk his hand left Oliver’s face and retreated to his lap. “I’m sorry… I came on a bit too strong, didn’t I? Damn, really, I’m sorry.” The man sighed and sat straight on his bar stool, looking much more sober than he actually was.

“It’s alright, really… Julian.” Chamberlain allowed himself a little smile. He enjoyed how the name rolled of his tongue like some exotic, new word.

“Really?” Julian lifted an eyebrow.

“Really,” Oliver replied with a quiet laugh.

A long while went by without the pair saying anything to each other. Julian seemed to relinquish himself to his own little world, with brows furrowed like he was deep in thought. A flustered Oliver returned to sipping on his now lukewarm ale. He tried to recede into his own thoughts, but the pounding bass line of the music made it terribly difficult. Not sure what to do now, other than not really enjoy his beverage, he began to fidget in his seat. A voice startled him out of his funk.

“How about--!” Julian immediately adjusted his too loud voice. Dub-step always did have that quirk of getting quiet at random intervals. “How about I make it up to you, Oliver?” he asked, finally turning to look at his dapper looking, hopefully soon-to-be date for the evening. “I’ll take you out for tea, if you’d like?”

“I’m actually not a fan of tea.” Oliver chuckled to himself. From what his memories told him, he loved a good cup of Earl Grey, but he just couldn’t find the taste for it now.

Julian looked deflated at the statement. “Ah, then, I’ll leave.” He made to step away from his perch, but was stopped by shaking hands.

“But! I wouldn’t mind going out for a cup of coffee.” Oliver could only guess what time it was, but he was sure that if all else failed, there was coffee just waiting to be brewed back at his flat.

With a smile wider than he realized, Julian gave a coy, “I’d like that,” and took Oliver’s hand and led him through the mass of gyrating bodies. Away from the flashing lights and God-awful music and into the cool, fresh air of the night; suit jacket completely forgotten at the bar.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this!
> 
> For those of you who normally read my works, I'm so sorry I haven't posted anything in so long! ;A; Give me about 2 more weeks then I'll hopefully be able to get my brain to crank out some more stories!!
> 
> -bows- Thank you again!  
> Stay beautiful.


End file.
